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Noel began to hum a tune and sway from side to side, making the journey of a few steps much harder than it needed to be.
Bartlett, the butler, scarcely blinked when he opened the door, no doubt used to such a sight from Luke’s younger years. Though he suspected Noel would not awaken with a sore head alone after a night of revelry at Vauxhall. However, he was not in nearly such a sorry state as Noel. Was this how he used to be when he indulged too heavily?
Unfortunately, likely so. He still recalled the morning he’d been woken by a gentle shake from his mother only to discover he’d fallen asleep at the piano entirely naked. No mother needed to see that and no grown son wished for such an occurrence, despite his mother’s protests that she had seen him naked plenty of times during childhood.
He worried for Noel, truly, but so far his brother kept his indulgences few and far between and never managed to take it to the great lengths Luke did.
“I’m hungry,” Noel muttered as he flung his hat at Bartlett.
The man caught it with the swiftest of movements. “Shall I awaken the cook?”
Luke shook his head. “Some bread and cheese will do him.”
He would not mind a chunk of bread to soak up the alcohol either, so he did not awaken still suffering. It had been some time since he’d indulged. He was inclined to blame Cassie—seeing her there, all smiling and radiant in the cloud of lit lanterns and flowers made him want to tear at his skin until he removed the swirling sensations she caused. That wasn’t possible, so he’d drained a decent amount of wine instead.
At least she did not seem to be doing anything else untoward. As far as he could tell, she had enjoyed the night with her sisters and her friends. Perhaps being caught sneaking about by him had frightened her enough to put an end to whatever it was she was up to.
A voice in the back of his mind said otherwise but he ignored it.
Noel slung an arm over Luke’s shoulders and drew him close. “You are a fine brother.”
Luke rolled his eyes. “As are you. Now let us get you some food.”
Together, they made their way down to the kitchen, Noel hindering almost every step with some remark on the decor of the house which had been in place for several years or uttering something about the night and the beautiful women in attendance.
“You know...I am rather surprised you did not go home with Mrs. Talbot. She was most eager and that bosom...” He motioned with two hands. “A man could get lost in that bosom.”
“If I had done that, who would be here to feed you?”
Luke escorted his brother into the kitchen and eased him onto a chair set by the still warm range.
Noel spread out his legs and folded his arms then eyed Luke. “You might have the title, Brother, but do you have to be a bore? You were once one of the most famed rakes in London.”
“That is the second time you have accused me of being a bore.”
Luke lit two lamps then went off in search of food. After discovering the bread, he sawed off a chunk with a knife then set it on a plate along with some cheese and butter he found in the pantry.
“I love you.” Noel paused and a loud, echoing snore emanated from him.
He debated leaving him. Let him awake, cold and stiff while servants bustled around him, but Noel really needed to get some food into him.
He sighed and gave his brother a shake. “Eat,” he commanded.
Noel took a slab of bread, tore a piece off and stuffed it into his mouth. “I want you to be happy,” he muttered around the bread.
“As do I for you, Noel. But what makes you think I am unhappy?”
“This viscount business.” His brother waved a hand, scattering breadcrumbs everywhere like snowfall. “You have not been the same since Father died.”
Luke eyed the spread of crumbs about his brother. The cook would not be impressed by the mess in the morning.
“This viscount business is what keeps this family going, Noel,” he reminded him.
“I know but there are plenty of rakish viscounts.”
“I am hardly a saint,” Luke pointed out.
“But you are not like youwere.”
